


Port In a Storm

by amongthieves



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amongthieves/pseuds/amongthieves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Dorian find routine in seeing each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> Started out as drabbles but became somewhat of a coherent piece. First time writing anything for the fandom, so I hope it's alright!

Cullen steers clear of the new mage for at least a fortnight before Dorian catches a whiff of his wet fur around the library. Rain lashes against the window as Dorian lights another candle, wrapping his cloak tighter around his shoulder.

Dorian makes it very well known that he does not like this new intruder in his building.

“Has someone let a wet fox into the library?” He calls out loud to no one in particular. Cullen stops in his tracks. He turns, pretending to peruse the bookshelf. Dorian knows better when he notices the plate armour amongst the wooden shelves. The only clothing found among the literature are flowing robes and not the clunking metal clink of armour. “Well. If someone doesn’t clean up that fox anytime soon, I’m going get the Inquisitor up here. He won’t approve of something smelling like that in _his_ library. Is the smell bothering anyone else?”

Cullen sets the book back rather quickly. Dorian steps over to him. “What about you, Cullen? Is that scent bothering you? Or am I the only one who can smell it?”

Cullen turns to look at him, still dripping wet from outside. He opens his mouth to talk and instead shakes his head, slowly sliding the fur off his shoulders. He wrings it out, patting down the matted fur.

“Not on the library floor, you animal!”

“Uh- sorry, I just thought-

“Just because it’s stone doesn’t mean that it won’t stain!”

The look that Cullen looks gives him is absolutely priceless. As if Cullen knew anything about stains. But on second thought, Dorian smiles to himself and turns his back. “You better clean that up before I ring your neck with that sopping fox.”

If Cullen came to talk to him for any reason, it’s gone now and he hears the steps head back down the stairs echo through the hall.


	2. ii.

Out the corner of his eye, Cullen catches Dorian in the kitchen. His lips are curled into a mischievous grin and the cook looks almost flustered at the words spilling out of Dorian’s mouth. They’re close, Dorian and the cook, and there’s a flurry of looks exchanged between them before a small box is handed over to Dorian.

When Cullen looks closer, and tries his best _not_ to look like he’s snooping, he notices the mark of Orlais painted on the smooth box. Lingering in the doorway, a chart for inventory in his hand to give to the cook, he scans it quickly.

A box of chocolates gifted from Orlais. Six of them.

One of which, Cullen figures, is in Dorian’s hands.

With a small sigh, he makes a small check beside the item. When Dorian leaves, and not before slipping a piece of the chocolate between the cook’s lips, Cullen inhales sharply before approaching the cook.

He hands him the chart and mentions not to worry about the missing box of chocolate and that he’ll take care of it himself. The chef is grateful and more flustered than his friendly interrogation with the Tevinter mage.

It’s not hard to find Dorian, knowing that he’d most likely return to a place where he wouldn’t be bothered with his unlawful treats. He finds the man in the hallway to the Inquisitor’s personal liquor room (why the Inquisitor feels the need to collect vintage bottles of wine and beer instead of sealing the Breach, he doesn’t quite know).

“Dorian. Those aren’t yours.”

Dorian shrugs, unsurprised at Cullen’s sudden appearance. “And? What are you going to do? Banish me back to Tevinter?”

“You should return them. I’m sure they were meant for-”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan doesn’t like chocolate. Want a piece? They’re exquisite.”

And it’s a wonder, Cullen thinks, that this Tevinter mage who is so accustomed to plush chairs and robes made of the finest silks, is sitting on the stone steps of Skyhold, a box of stolen chocolates in his lap. And he’s offering him one, as if they were his own.

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“Your loss.” Dorian pops a piece onto his mouth, making expressions that Cullen realizes is mocking him. Overwhelming looks of delight. Cullen clears his throat when Dorian moans softly. “Orlais knows how to do their desserts. I haven’t had anything this rich in too long. Perhaps Vivienne would like a piece...”

“One.”

“Excuse me?” Dorian looks back to Cullen.

“I’ll try one.”

Dorian breaks out into a childish smile. “That’s the spirit! Now you can’t blame me if anyone cares that a few have gone missing.” Cullen rolls his eyes and allows himself to sit down, picking the least flashy piece. It melts like sugar over his tongue and Dorian was right – rich, flavourful, a hint of mint rouses his senses as the cool taste slides down the back of his throat. Dorian snorts and before Cullen realizes what he's doing, Dorian rubs at the corner of his mouth, wiping away a bit of chocolate.

“Well?”

“I should be back to duty.” Cullen stands, brushes himself off. Lingers a moment. Dorian looks back to his box and closes the lid gently.

“Suit yourself. If you want anymore, you know where to find me.”

Cullen mutters a goodbye before heading down the hall, cheeks flushing, his back turned to Dorian.


	3. iii.

“The stars look beautiful, don’t they?” Cullen whirls on his heels, shoulders tense at the sound of another voice on the Skyhold wall. He relaxes – but only slightly – when he sees Dorian walk towards him, arms crossed.

“Yes... They have a faint glow to them. You can see-“

“The Lights of the Veil. Yes, yes. Tonight’s supposed to be the night marked on the calendar that only happens once every so many years. Astonishing isn’t it, how time goes by so fast? I remember seeing this sky when I was just a boy-”

“You could see this sky in... the Imperium?”

“Well don’t say it like that.” Dorian grins and sidles up beside him, making Cullen’s shoulders tense again. “But no. Father would take me out under heavily guarded military forces and show us. Only after much pestering and promising of studies, of course. My father had his own agenda and I followed it to a tee. Granted, he never actually came. The nanny he was extremely fond of generally hoisted me around.”

Cullen watches out the corner of his eye as Dorian leans against the wall, shivering at the touch of cool stone against his robes. For a moment, Cullen thinks to offer his fur but he bites his tongue. Wet fox. He almost scoffs out loud.

“What about you, Cullen?”

“I’ve seen it before. Back in Ferelden.”

“Ah yes, you grew up in that part of Thedas.” Dorian turns around, brandishing a wide smile that makes Cullen’s gut turn the slightest. He doesn’t smile back, but watches as Dorian regards him with curious eyes. “Tevinter must be like a myth to you. Have you seen silk in person before? Well, other than when I’m wearing it-”

“I came out to enjoy the silence, Dorian. If I wanted a chat, I would have found one in the castle.”

Dorian raises an eyebrow and tilts his head back, eyes searching the midnight sky. The colour of the night against the moon reminds Cullen of the robes Dorian wore the other day, riding out with the Inquisitor. There’s no snarky comeback but Dorian doesn’t leave either.

Instead, they watch the green hued ribbon flow in the sky, melting into colours of ice and ocean.

As the first snow falls, Dorian throws Cullen an apologetic look. Too cold for the mage from Tevinter and so he nods and heads for the staircase. Cullen almost asks him to stay, but decides against it. Remaining as the snow began a steady fall, Cullen finds himself longing a bit for Dorian’s insulting remarks about Ferelden.

Or maybe he just wishes to see his moonlit robes again.


	4. iv.

“What are you going to do after Corypheus has been dealt with?” The question tumbles out of Cullen’s mouth without anything more of a second thought. Dorian raises his eyebrow at him as they walk together, carrying boxes to the kitchen. Everyone either seems gone or too busy to help today.

It’s the twenty third time they’ve climbed the stairs. Dorian hardly looks as if he’s broken a sweat and Cullen is starting to regret going up the stairs first.

“I’m not quite sure.” Dorian hums over the thought for a moment and answers just as Cullen opens his mouth. “Probably return to Tevinter.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to change it. If the Inquisitor can make a change here, then I can do something for my homeland. They deserve it. We’re not all poisonous. Just like the way not all you Templars are corrupted, unstable killers.”

Cullen scoffs and accidentally slams his foot into the stone step. Dorian snorts.

“But we do have more grace than all Templars, it would seem.” Dorian's voice almost sing songs. He seems to be in a surprisingly good mood for moving boxes all afternoon.

“Ex-Templar. Don’t forget that detail.”

“Oh, where are my manners? Go ahead and punish me. I’ve been bad.”

Dorian hears something of a startled laugh from ahead of him and smiles for Cullen, even if he can't see the way that he looks at him. Dorian's not entirely sure of the smile himself. It kind of happens without reason.

Tries to tell himself that it happens without reason. That the butterflies in his stomach that are constantly there are just from the fear of the breach. But Dorian knows he's not scared of the world ending. He's more scared of Cullen noticing his stupid smile.


	5. v.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters may start getting longer, and I may start getting slower. Hooray, mid-term season!

“Tell me, Commander - what was your family like?” Dorian’s voice is soft and relaxed (a welcome sensation these days) and it makes Cullen smile the slightest bit. The garden is mostly empty in Skyhold and it gives them a relaxed environment as they leisurely move their chess pieces back and forth. Leaning back into the chair, Cullen can feel the ease in the marrow of his bones - sighs as he knows it’s all temporary. Dorian leans forward, his eyes scanning the board.

His eyes seemed blue, or so Cullen thought. But after spending so much time with the man, he’s come to realize they’re the colour of the moon. A mischievous glint of silver. It explains why the robes that reminded him of the night looked so dashing. Although, Cullen would never say those words out loud. Dorian already has his ego stroked enough by the Inquisitor, and anyone who wishes to indulge him.

“My sister is still around, in Felerden. She worries too much, just like my mother did. She definitely took after my mother more so than my father, which I believe explains a lot.”

“Do you keep in touch with her?”

“I try to. It’s difficult, I don’t want to put her in any danger but it’s nice to hear from her.” 

Dorian moves a piece when Cullen isn’t looking and smiles politely at him when his focus returns.

“Isn’t that lovely.”

“Why do you ask?”

Cullen moves his piece into end game position. It takes Dorian a moment to realise it. 

“Well played, Cullen. I didn’t even see that one coming.”

“I saw you cheating, so I thought I’d wrap up the game before you used that to your advantage.” Cullen leans back into his chair, rubbing his chin as a smug grin spreads across his face. With a snort, Dorian plucks Cullen’s king off the board and rolls it between his fingers.

“You certainly know how to do your job. Do you notice every time I cheat?”

“Perhaps.”

The king is set back on the board, beside Dorian’s king.

“Imagine if I were king of Ferelden.”

“I think Alistair wouldn’t be too pleased with that.”

“Ferelden would at least have a better fashion sense.”

“Not too sure the farmers would take to sowing their seeds and feeding the pigs in the heat with silky soft robes.”

“They’d look fabulous doing it though.”

Cullen laughs, a real honest to Maker laugh, before standing. “Loser’s in charge of cleaning.” In response, Dorian rolls his eyes but begins to collect the pieces before returning them to their wooden box, made courtesy of Blackwall. When he finishes, he looks to see Cullen standing against a pillar, regarding the potted plants that the Inquisitor had started.

“Neat, isn’t it? Not that Elfroot needs to be grown here. I’m always tripping over it in the Hinterlands.” Walking up beside Cullen, Dorian leans against the pillar opposite of him. 

“It’s definitely resourceful. Inquisitor Trevelyan certainly seems to know what he’s doing.” At the words, Cullen looks over to see Dorian break in a playful smile. 

“I would most definitely agree.”

“And what of your family, Dorian?”

The smile quickly disappears.

“I prefer not to speak of it.”

And Cullen lets it sit at that before Dorian walks away.


	6. vi.

People begin to take notice of Dorian taking his books outside of the library and reading around places in Skyhold. When the Inquisitor isn’t home, Josephine has seen on multiple accounts, Dorian tip toeing into his quarters. She, and many others, suspect that Dorian has gotten accustomed to Trevelyan’s sheets.

“It is not our business, Cullen, but you seem friendly enough with Dorian to know what his intentions with the Inquisitor are.”

“Excuse me?” Cullen looks up from the War Table to see Cassandra, flanked by Josephine. Josephine tries her hardest to look bored, but Cullen knows the politics of the Skyhold relationships interest her more than Varric's smutty romance novels. 

“We don’t believe in rumours, as they are petty and childish, but we do investigate them.” Josephine leans against the table, idling playing with a set piece as she lets Cassandra speaks. A wise move, considering Cassandra's demeanour. “Leliana has had her people watching. We need to know all information on all fronts.”

“Well why don’t you ask the Inquisitor himself, personally?”

“He’s out.”

“Then wait for him to return. I am not a messenger boy.”

“Cullen-”

“Dorian hasn't said a word to me about our Inquisitor. Is that all?”

Josephine sets the piece down and leans back. Cassandra nods her head. “That is all.”

As Cassandra and Josephine allow themselves out, Cullen pauses as he shifts one of the pieces over to Ferelden. Wonders, for a moment, if Dorian has found himself pressed between the sheets and the Inquisitor. If not, what could be the reasoning between their time spent together? 

Cullen had his suspicions but more than anything, surprisingly enjoys the Tevinter mage’s company. The regular chess games give him space between the thought of lyrium and the army in his hands. But the questions about the mage begin to pile up and Cullen knows from previous experiences that unfamiliar territory is a risk. 

Dorian Pavus is a risk, not just to the Inquisition as a mage, but to Cullen. He can smell the magic on him. Feel it like static in the air. Like one of Dorian's lightning spells he's gotten too close to in training. Even the thought of Dorian, fingers touched with magic, touching him - touching his skin - makes the hairs on the back of his arm stick up. 

A little bit of fear. A little bit of arousal. An insane combination of the two, if he were honest to himself. It's been a while.

In the back of the mind, a small thought begins to brew. An image he can't shake - pictures Dorian like the way they paint the Goddesses in places of worship. Smooth, naked body draped over the bed, eyes inviting him to join. Cullen is not a poetic man, but  realizes as he maps out their next scouting mission that perhaps, Dorian’s company is more than just an idle game of chess to him. 

Wonders, without doubt, if Dorian would be curious about his sheets at all.


	7. vii.

“Move out of the way!”

Cullen is already moving towards the front gates, having seen the party ride in a panicked hurry up the road. People gather around the gates; healers, soldiers, anyone ready to stand up for the Inquisition. Cullen can hear Sera’s voice rising above the babbling crowd.

“Dorian, hold on, okay? Mate, we got you. Just look at me here. Hey, hey.” And Cullen doesn’t have any time to react as Inquisitor Trevelyan and Sera carry Dorian towards the healers’ camp, a multitude of hands already searching for the wound. As Cullen steps forward, catching a flash of Dorian hunched over, still leaking blood into the dirt, Cassandra walks in front of his path.

“Stay back, Commander. Red lyrium. Infected Templars got a hold of them, damaged Dorian the hardest. Venatori were in attendance as well. It seems as though they were working with the Templars.”

And Cassandra can see the reluctance in his eyes as he steps back instinctively at the words. She notices and Cullen knows she’ll store this information for later. “Send word to me once he is stabilized.” His chest is tight as he turns away, heads back to his quarters. 

The moment he closes the door, he climbs up his ladder and scrambles to the window, watching. People have moved to their respective places. Dorian’s blood trail leads to the infirmary. 

He can smell the scent of blood and lyrium. It’s like a mist in his mind. A soft, singing voice that calls to him.

*

He finds himself dozing off until he hears the sound of Leliana already half way up the ladder. “Cullen?”

“Ah, sorry. Must have fallen asleep - it’s been a long day.”

“Longer for some of us, it would seem.” She smoothly pulls herself up and stands in the middle of the poor excuse for a bedroom. She wraps her arms around herself as a breeze picks up through the open cracks and holes in the wooden panelled walls.

“How is he?”

“The Inquisitor is fine. In Redcliffe, they were outnumbered by a group of Templars and Venatori. The town didn’t even know they were lingering. I have dispatched my men to take care of the remainder. Question is, why had I not heard they were there? And, why are the Venatori and Templars working together?”

Cullen hears nothing of her words, drowns out anything that don’t include ‘Tevinter Mage’.

“But Dorian is fine. Cassandra said you were concerned.”

“Well of course. He’s a member of the Inquisition and with red lyrium-”

“More concerned than usual. Do we need to-”

Cullen turns and looks at her. “No. I’m fine. I don’t need to talk about it.” Leliana taps her fingers  on her arms, looking off to the mountains in the distance through a rather large gap in the wall. Cullen returns his focus to the infirmary door. No one has wiped up the blood. Eventually, the rain will take it. For a moment, Cullen wonders if the lyrium lingers in that blood. It would explain his fixation on it. One of the reasons, anyways.

“Do we need to have a discussion?”

“No.”

Leliana lets her hands fall to her side and heads back for the ladder. “Good. Let us keep it that way, Commander.” She begins her descent. Halfway down, she speaks just loud enough for Cullen to hear. “He asked for you. It should be safe by now.” She doesn’t need to speak a name for Cullen to know who she meant.

Cullen, just in case, orders his men to clear the blood with buckets of water from the well. He doesn’t need to take any risks.


	8. viii.

Dorian isn’t conscious when he visits for the first time.

Spread out on a bed that he would most likely complain about if awake, his body is bandaged and even though Cullen was reassured that Vivienne was working on the healing, blood still soaks the gauze.

The Inquisitor stands beside Cullen, arms crossed tensely over his chest. “Blood mages. Right outside of Tevinter. Venatori, most likely. It was recognizable from the robes. And well, y’know, the blood magic. And red lyrium.” He rocks back and forth on his heels while Cullen watches him out the corner of his eye.

“I know. Leliana briefed me earlier. Why in the Maker’s name were the Venatori in Redcliffe village? Why didn’t you stop by any of the camps-”

“You know why, Cullen. The best care is here. I didn’t want to leave Dorian in the hands of just anybody, especially with-”

“Okay. I get it-”

“And I’m going to say it was his father’s doing.” This catches Cullen’s attention and pulls his gaze fully away from Dorian’s chest, rising and falling slowly.

“His father’s doing?”

Inquisitor Trevelyan pursed his lips and Cullen could see the tiny flinch reverberate through his body. The heightened anxiety. The shoulders even more tense than Cullen has ever seen. Something had happened horribly, and the Inquisitor knew - and spoke nothing.

“Inquisitor, if this puts any of our-”

“It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. Dorian’s father... well, it’s his business to tell you. I won’t.”

Cullen sighs and lets his sights rest on Dorian. Chest rises. It falls. Shallow but slow.

“Fair enough.”

“I’ll send a messenger for you once he wakes?”

“No. That won’t be necessary.” Cullen grabs the chair next to the bed and sits down, leans back into the hard back and exhales. He pauses and then takes the fur wrap off his shoulders and manages to place it under Dorian’s neck. “I’ll watch him for a bit.”

The Inquisitor lingers but after several quiet moments, Cullen looks over his shoulder to see him gone.

“Dorian, I’m here. It would be nice if you woke up.”

And the day moves on without Dorian waking. Cullen hardly leaves the room, has his soldiers bring him reports at the door. He wonders where the lyrium has gone, and how Vivienne handled it. Hears a soft singing but manages to drown it out once he looks at the blood at Dorian’s side. 

When he feels like he’s suffocating, Cullen stands at the door, keeping Dorian just in view, but enough to distance himself. He thinks of the lyrium kit he has in his desk drawer, how simple it would be to just give in and continue. To stop the dreams that leave him coated in sweat; wet and hot as he startles awake. 

As he sits back down beside Dorian’s bed, watching the unmoving mage, he’s curious if Dorian knows of the rebellion. Safe in Tevinter, where the Circles as nothing like the rest of Thedas, was he coddled and celebrated amongst his magic-bearing friends? While they celebrated and indulged in their magic in Minrathous, Ferelden spilled blood and tortured those who opposed the mage’s rebellion.

But Dorian doesn’t strike him as a man who uses ignorance to sweep the problems under the rug. He remembers meeting Dorian for the first time, exhausted and smashing demons with his staff. No fire, no magic left in him. Yet he still fought to make it to Haven’s doors.

Cullen heaves a heavy sigh and takes Dorian’s hand into his own, feeling his warmth, running his thumb over the mage’s knuckles.


	9. ix.

When Dorian wakes, the room immediately begins to fill with shards of ice, aiming to pierce whoever has wounded him. He struggles to push himself off the bed and when he does, he’s met with a face he thought he’d never have the pleasure of seeing again.

“Dorian, it’s me. Cullen. There’s no Venatori here. And I’m ex-Templar, remember? No corruption here-” Dorian’s eyes don’t miss Cullen’s hand on his blade, the fear prevalent in his face. “It’s just me. It’s okay.” His voice has a certain amount of warmth to it that Dorian finds most puzzling, albeit, comforting. The ice breaks and disappears into thin air and Dorian feels his knees begin to tremble. Before he falls, a pair of strong hands hold him up and gently shift him upwards onto the bed.

“Well... why didn’t you say so? Could have saved you some trouble.” Dorian’s voice is a low mumble and Cullen forces a smile.

“You didn’t give me much time to-”

“Am I wearing fur? Am I wearing _your_ fur?” Dorian’s voice is shrill, over the top hysterical, and Cullen feels the excuses building up in his throat and none of them manage to escape. He doesn’t even catch the teasing smile that the mage gives him as he stammers.

“I-... I, um, didn’t want you getting cold. It’s cold.”

“Well, as much as I appreciate the sentimentality coming from you, of all people, I don’t really do fur. Feathers are more my thing. Fur is very...” There’s a small flash of a smirk in Dorian’s tired face. “Very Ferelden.”

For a moment, Dorian moves to remove the cover from his shoulders but he stops when Cullen doesn’t step forward. “What are you looking at?”

Cullen’s hand has fallen from his sword and rests on the back of the chair, his fingers gripping tightly. “I thought I had lost you.”

And Cullen’s words pull Dorian’s face into a small frown.

“Well that’s selfish. I’m not yours, am I?”

Cullen’s cheeks redden the slightest and he pulls his hand away from the chair. “No. No, you’re not. I should... I should go.”

“Don’t.” Dorian’s voice is sharp and Cullen doesn’t stop moving away. He steps backwards, shaking his head. 

“I have matters to attend to, Dorian. These blood mages and the-”

“They’re after _me_. I’m quite popular with them, you know.” Cullen watches Dorian’s attempt at a snarky smile, but frowns when he flinches in pain. “Don’t put any men in jeopardy, Cullen. Let me talk to them-”

“No! You got close to them and they almost ripped you apart! They used red lyrium - they’re conferring with the Templars and what if- what if you became corrupted? The Inquisitor told me what happened to those in the time rift the two of you traveled through. Hard to believe but-…” Cullen’s loud voice echoes through the infirmary and he hears the door at the end of the hall shut. The Inquisitor must have stayed closer than he thought. “You’re in no shape for negotiations, Dorian. Even if you were, I will not have anymore of your blood spilled-”

“This is a war - have you forgotten that, dear commander? Blood will be spilled whether you like it or not! This is a concept I figured that commander of the Inquisition’s army would understand. Everyone is expendable - except for the Inquisitor himself. Don’t be a fool. I am not as weak as you think. The red lyrium has been removed - Vivienne has worked her magic. That’s it - I’m not dead. You must know the powers of mages, no? I’m sure Kirkwall has taught you a thing or two.”

And there it is - the image of fire and ice, burning, licking at his flesh, and then freezing the wound. The lacerations instantly healed, only to be torn open again. Suffocating. Sweat running down the tip of his nose as blood pooled in his left ear. No scars. No physical reminders of their torture.

Just the memory, and a dull aching throb of anger in the back of his mind. 

Dorian’s face changes - softens into something almost apologetic but Cullen doesn’t see it. The mage goes to open his mouth but Cullen is already turning away, body tense and fists clenched at his sides as he makes his way out. Almost scrambles to open the door. 

“ _Cullen!_ ”

He doesn’t look at the Inquisitor as he leaves, but hears him rush into the room, expecting to find a very bloodied Dorian. But he’ll be sitting there, no blood, no wounds. No torture.

Breathing feels harder now that he’s out of the room and Cullen doesn’t get too far before his lungs lock up and his chest constricts, pushes his back up against a wall, trying to ground himself. Trying to remember that he’s safe, that Dorian can’t hurt him here. That Kirkwall is in the past and even miles away from him. The abominations can’t touch him - won’t touch him. And he tries to reconcile, to remind himself that not all mages are like that. He’s been doing so well.

But then he remembers Dorian, bleeding and unconscious. The Templars and Venatori attacking their own. Dorian being dragged through the court yard, the most vulnerable he had ever seen him.

Eventually, his body steadies and his hands stop shaking. He knows it has nothing to do with the lyrium withdrawals, knows this feeling all too well after leaving Kirkwall. Inhales deeply and exhales slowly. Reminds himself he is safe.

He returns to the war table and immediately sets his troops to dispatch of the Venatori in Redcliffe. Even if Leliana had sent her troops on it, he had to make sure. Cassandra eyes him and Cullen knows without question the Inquisitor has spoken with her and Josephine. 

They return as the sun sets, together in one piece, to tell Cullen that they’ve gone. There’s no trace of any Venatori anywhere near the town.

 


	10. x.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! University's super busy right now, and there probably won't be any new chapters until at least the first week of April. But don't worry, it hasn't been abandoned, I promise!

Dorian heals slowly, without any help from Cullen.

From his watchtower, Cullen can see Dorian limping out in the field, accompanied by the Inquisitor. Without knowing it, Cullen feels his jaw clenching and his neck growing hot. Wonders if the Inquisitor has to wash his sheets in the morning because of the blood Dorian spills from his wounds, from tearing them open in a thrashing of nightmares.

Because Cullen’s heard it from outside of the infirmary door at night. Leans against the wooden door and listens to Dorian’s cries.

Stays away because it would be better for the both of them.

He busies himself at the War Table and even Leliana shoots him a look over dawn one evening. He’s been there the whole day, moving pieces back and forth, making marks in the map. Twirls a small piece in his fingers, avoids Leliana’s gaze.

“You should get some rest tonight, Cullen.”

He shrugs. “The Inquisition-”

“This is not about the Inquisition, so do not make it so. Get some rest and return tomorrow. You will ride to the Hinterlands in the morning. There are men there losing faith in the Inquisition’s army and who better to inspire them than the Commander himself?”

Setting the piece down, Cullen nods and exits through the double doors. Dorian stands in the hallway.

Panicked, Cullen looks back over his shoulder but sees Leliana’s small smile before the wooden doors swing shut.

“Cullen-”

“I have business to attend.”

“I wouldn’t come here if it weren’t a serious matter. You know I don’t walk these halls, they’re too cold for me.”

Cullen pauses, thinks that he should just walk past Dorian, not give him what he wants. 

“Are you free of the red lyrium?”

For a moment, Dorian looks confused. Then a small smile flashes across his face. “Of course. Vivienne worked on me - do you think she would let me walk around with poison in my blue blood? Of course not. You’re safe. I’m safe. Everybody’s safe! Well-… not quite, but I’m sure you get what I mean.”

“Will it be quick?”

“I think you can afford to give me some of  your time, Commander.”

Cullen sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “Very well. Can it be talked about in the open?”

“No.” And Dorian turns on his heel, robes billowing out from behind him. Cullen finds himself following without any further question. No one pays them any attention, too busy in their own matters to question a Tevinter mage leading an ex-Templar through Skyhold. Cullen can feel his heart beating in his throat, palms slick as he rubs them together as they head up the spiral stone staircase, past the library and through Leliana’s rookery. A gust of wind blasts through the door once Dorian steps outside to the wall, allowing them to see down the mountain of Skyhold and see people training down near the tavern. 

Reminds Cullen of the night they watched the sky beside his watchtower.

“Did Vivienne give you the go-ahead to climb stairs?” Closing the door behind them, Cullen turns to see Dorian walking with a small limp.

“No. But I know my body well enough to know what I can be doing what I want.” Dorian leans against the half-wall, the tension in his shoulders easing once he rests. As if Cullen wouldn’t notice.

“Look, I’ll cut straight to the point here. I know you don’t want to be around me-”

“No, that’s not-”

“But my father-“ Dorian sucks in a breath, and Cullen can see him struggle with the words rolling around on his tongue. He’s never seen the cocky, sure of himself man like this before. Reminds Cullen that he’s more than just a mage. “He tried to change me. Back in Tevinter. Used blood magic to… well, to try and make me adhere to his ideals. He wanted an heir, and I refused to give that to him. This hasn’t been the first time red lyrium has been pushed into my system.”

Cullen grits his teeth. Dorian shakes his head.

“Stop.”

Turning to look the order way, Cullen rubs at his jaw. Tries to quickly massage the anger away. It stays. His skin prickles hot again.

“The Inquisitor mentioned you went to see your father in Redcliffe-“

“Yes. I did. I didn’t think he would show but he did. Preached just the same as he used when I started to defy him. He’s a dangerous man, Cullen. And I think he’s coming after the Inquisition. I know we have the Templars on our side, at least the ones not crazed on lyrium, and my father is not above using red lyrium to corrupt and kill. I am… amazed that I am not dead. Red lyrium contact with mages should kill us.”

“But it didn’t.” Cullen thanks the Maker in the back of his mind. Wonders how Dorian could have been so lucky.

“And it didn’t kill me the first time. Granted, it wasn’t shot into my system from the tip of an arrow back then. Clever bastards.”

“I’m surprised it made its way to Tenvinter.”

“Oh dear Cullen. We can get anything we want in Tevinter. Minrathous has plenty of goodies if you know where to look.”

At Dorian’s remark, Cullen scowls. “I should have guessed.” 

“Regardless,” Dorian’s waves his hand in the air, dismissing the off topic discussion. “I think my father has… manipulated higher powers into narrowing in on the Inquisition. They must have their own reasons to be after us, but my father can promise plenty of power, among other things.”

“Samson.” 

“Sorry, who?”

“Samson. An old friend of mine. The Inquisition mentioned him at Val Royeux. I’m thinking he may be at the tip of the spear for the Red Templars. And Leliana mentioned a name, Calpernia.”

“Lovely. A lead for you to work on. I’m sure the Inquisitor will want to hear this-”

“Tell me. Are you and the Inquisitor…?”

Cullen turns to look at Dorian before immediately recognizing it as a terrible idea and looking elsewhere. Dorian’s face had been utter shock. Not exactly the reaction Cullen had been looking for. He feels his heart sink into his stomach as he waits for Dorian's reply.

“Curious, are you? You didn’t strike me as the type to believe the rumours.”

Cullen shrugs, still not meeting Dorian’s eye.

“But no, I am not in bed with the Inquisitor. Oh, he’ll laugh when he hears this one. ‘Trevelyan, your favourite Commander was asking about us and what we do in the bed-‘”

Cullen immediately jerks his head over to look at Dorian. The smug expression makes his chest tighten. “No! I wasn’t asking-”

“But you most definitely were thinking.”

Cullen bites his tongue. Mind hazes over with the image of Dorian wrapped up in sheets. 

“I knew it. I suppose you’re not as thick as you look.” Dorian clicks his tongue. “But either way, we have a problem on our hands, and it should probably be dealt with before it escalates. Vivienne may or may not have approved me for stairs, but even I know I’m not fit for bloodshed anytime soon. Which, frankly, is disappointing. I was looking forward to watching Venatori heads cave in.”

“Gruesome, even for you, Dorian.”

“Well, when you’ve truly seen what the Venatori do, maybe you’d understand.”

Cullen clears his throat. Remembers Kirkwall, and assumes it’s only something similar. “Well. Is there anything else?” For a moment, Dorian looks idly into the distance. The sharp mountain tops and their snowy peaks disappear to the clouds in the distance.

“No. I suppose that’s all.”


	11. xi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And you thought I had forgotten about this. I am finally free of classes for the semester! I should have extra time to do some writing as I'm looking for a job now, so updates should be a little more frequent. I'm excited to take this fic further once again. Hope you guys enjoy!

Cullen can tell that Dorian is getting restless. The man looks for a fight where ever he can find it. Occasionally, Cullen can hear Dorian yelling, ranting and raving to the Inquisitor on Skyhold’s walls in the middle of the night. The soldiers are growing weary of him - the Tevinter rebel mage. They’re expecting an outburst, something that might put their progress at risk. Cullen surprises himself when he doesn’t whole heartedly agree with them.

It doesn’t take long for Cullen, lying in bed, trying to sleep, to throw back the sheets and throw on his clothes in the middle of the night. He wraps the fur blanket around his shoulders and makes it way down the ladder, to the source of Dorian’s voice. Once he opens the door, both Dorian and the Inquisitor look in his direction.

“Ah, sorry, Commander. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Inquisitor Trevelyan offers an apologetic smile, while Dorian turns his gaze back to the mountains. “Dorian’s just been-”

“It’s okay. I can take over. Go to sleep, Inquisitor. I know you have a long day in Emprise du Lion tomorrow.” Cullen walks over to the wall, keeping his distance from Dorian who doesn’t even look his way a second time. The men are illuminated by a soft candlelight that sits on the castle wall.

“You sure?”

“Yes. If it’s okay with Dorian, that is.” Dorian shrugs in response and the Inquisitor hesitates before nodding and taking his leave down the stairs. Cullen waits for the Inquisitor’s footsteps to disappear before he speaks again.

“I’m still looking for them. They’re a slippery bunch. The Venatori really don’t want to be found.”

Dorian turns around and a smile slips through his frustration. “Nice cape.”

“I’m amazed you’re not wearing one yourself.”

“Furs really aren’t my thing, remember? Besides,” Dorian moves over to Cullen and taps his forehead with his finger. A momentary warmth spreads through Cullen, feels as though he’s been sitting in the Ferelden summer sun. It disappears as fast as it comes. “I have magic. Better than any blanket can offer.”

Cullen jerks back once the effect fades out. “Don’t do that.”

“Stop being a child. I don’t hurt-”

“You almost did, when you woke up.”

“That was… an accident. I had almost just been killed, remember? Wouldn’t you wake up swinging your sword if the last thing you remembered was being pierced by an arrow? It’s not such a crazy thought.” Dorian leans against the stone, idling watching the candle flicker in the wind.

“Surely you’ve heard of Kirkwall-” The thought tumbles out too fast for Cullen to realize what he’s said. Dorian’s eyes flicker to Cullen.

“Kirkwall, huh? Of course. There are only few who haven’t heard of the destruction in Kirkwall.” Dorian brings his hand to his face, twists at the end of his moustache before sitting himself on the stone wall. He makes himself comfortable and Cullen shifts. “But I have a feeling that wasn’t what put the nail in the coffin.”

“Excuse me?”

“Something happened before that. Kirkwall… confirmed your fears. About how spooky mages are. How we’re the big bad wolf-”

“It’s not like that.”

Dorian scoffs, tapping his fingers against the stone. He looks almost impatient, and Cullen feels the fatigue weighing on his eyes. “You scream sometimes, in your sleep. The men are used to it, they know you’re not in danger but the first time I heard it…” Cullen’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, but Dorian shakes his head. “We all have our demons, Commander. It’s how you deal with them that decides your fate.”

“Do you believe in that?”

“No. But I think you might need something to believe in after what you’ve been through.” And Cullen is shocked to hear the genuine tone behind his words. For a moment, he wonders if Dorian has heard him begging for his life. Wonders what Dorian’s reaction was.

“I have the Chantry.”

To this, Dorian lets out a hearty laughter and his smile reaches his eyes for the first time in months. He winces after a moment, gently touching his side as the laughter dies down but the smile remains. “As do most fools.”

“I’m not a fool-”

“I think otherwise.” Dorian slides his feet back onto the floor and stands, taking a step closer to Cullen. He runs a hand down the fur, watches Cullen clutch at it a little bit tighter. “But I think we may be able to help each other.”

“Help with what?” Cullen watches Dorian’s hand stroke his blanket and swallows thickly.

“I’m bored. I am all cooped up in this castle with nothing to do. Humour me with some sparring.”

Dorian drops his hand, but keeps his close distance to Cullen. Cullen can practically see his breath in the air. A chill runs down his spine.

“And how is this helping me?”

“How am I ever going to touch you without having you flinch in response?”

And Cullen’s not entirely sure if he’s heard Dorian correctly, but the mage is laughing once again as he makes his way to the stairs, the sense of warmth he carried with him gone as Cullen stands by himself. 

It’s Cullen’s turn to find himself restless as he returns back to his bed, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. Sleep comes too easily as he pictures Dorian with him, still stroking the blanket. Fingers brushing against the fur. Against his hair, against his heated skin.

The nightmares come anyways.

But he’s up before dawn, the conversation from the late night still spinning in his head as he tightens the straps on his armour. People mill around the grounds, taking their time to fetch breakfast from the kitchen before training begins. Cullen arrives to his post near the training grounds and sees a flat of bread and fruits set out for him. A soldier stands by it, looking around nervously.

“You didn't have to do this for me.” Cullen’s voice is tired as he reaches for a slice of bread, biting into it. Still warm.

“I didn’t, sir. The… Tevinter mage brought it down.” Cullen stops mid-chew and looks to the soldier, who looks probably as confused as Cullen does. “Told me to tell you to… er…. take care of yourself today. That he was going to stop by tonight for your new nightly activities.” The soldier’s face blushes a soft pink and Cullen finds himself mirroring the embarrassment. He thought about going easy on the mage, but found himself changing his mind. “Sir.”

“Well… go on then. No need to guard the bread and butter any more.” Cullen takes an apple into his hand and wonders if they came from the Hinterlands. He remembers an apple orchard not too far from where he lived. It amazed him every year when they sprouted from the trees, some mornings covered in a glint of frost. The apple’s sweet and the taste is almost too savoury for Cullen, the sourness biting into the back of his jaw. He shakes his head and sets the fruit down and begins to set the grounds up for the day.

Out the corner of his eye, as he sets a training dummy up, he catches the sight of Dorian. The man waves and takes a bite out of a similar apple to earlier. Cullen is unsure of how to respond, the image of fingers on fur from last night still fresh on his mind, and nods awkwardly in his direction. 

Once again, Dorian laughs and disappears out of Cullen’s line of sight.


	12. xii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me so long to update. It's not dead, I swear!

Dorian is surprised to see Cullen standing amidst the cobwebs and dusty books. He admires the sight for a moment with Cullen unaware of his footsteps as he approaches, a book open in his hands. Dorian can’t quite catch the title but when Cullen looks up, the question leaves his mind.

“I’m surprised you found it.”

“I am too, honestly.” Cullen sets the book haphazardly back on the shelf, looking around. “It’s so filled with cobwebs, I could hardly get in. There are probably so many rooms in this stronghold that we don’t even know about.” 

Dorian shrugs and trails his finger across the book spines as he walks towards Cullen. Dust rises in the air and Dorian stops, a foot in front of Cullen. “How are you feeling?”

“Why did you ask me here?”

“Someone’s in a mood.”

“I am not in a mood. ”

“The way you say it makes me think you really are.”

With a heavy sigh, the commander turns away to look at the giant book open on the desk in the center of the bookshelves. Dorian peers over his shoulder, gently resting his chin on Cullen’s shoulder. For a moment, Cullen doesn’t waver but Dorian can see a flush of red running up his neck.

“That book is ages old — the date tells me it’s centuries back. Now what it’s doing here… I don’t care to know. Can you read what it says?” Dorian’s voice is soft against Cullen’s ear, and the man’s skin turns to gooseflesh as he shrugs Dorian off, moving to take a closer look at the book. As the he leans over to inspect the writing, gently pulling pages back, Dorian admires the view in front of him. 

“Something about magic.” Cullen’s voice wavers for a moment, but Dorian pretends to take no notice.

“Wow, bravo. Even a child could have told me that. Look closer.”

Dorian snickers at the scoff Cullen gives him, but doesn’t move. As Cullen pours over the pages, humming and hah’ing, Dorian realizes he hasn’t come up with a reason to tell Cullen why he invited him down. Even he doesn’t know what’s in the book, the Elvish language far too old for him to comprehend. Later on, he might invite Solas down — but not for the same reason he did for Cullen. 

He remembers looking at stars with Cullen, watching Cullen regard the sky with curiosity as they talked myth — of what the Maker had in plan for them. Days after that, Dorian wondered if Cullen was included in his plan at all. He wonders if Cullen is or isn’t going to make it through the attack on Coryphesus, or if any of them will.

Dorian has never been one for sentimentality but in this moment, with Cullen trying to read something he will never comprehend, Dorian feels his heart twinge at the idea of the man reading in bed beside him. The idea of domestication with the commander feels like nothing but a fantasy, the idea of stability in the chaos of war right now. 

Feels his heart sink at the realization that Cullen holds the Inquisition over anything else. Has seen the look in his eye when he talks about all the Inquisitor has done, the lives they’ve saved and the people they’ve freed. Remembers the way his mouth turned when he spoke of Kirkwall and the Circles — the treatment of mages and his regrets.

Dorian wants to hear all of his regrets. Tell them that it’s okay, that they’re both human. Regrets are made and to be moved on from. Dorian has his fair share.

But he feels the regret turning in his stomach when Cullen looks over his shoulder and smiles cluelessly. “I have no clue what any of this is. Care to fill me in?”

“I…” And there’s a part of Dorian that wants to say it. To tell him everything he’s been thinking about and feeling over the past couple of months. But he doesn’t. “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“You’re ridiculous. Are you telling me you don’t know what this says?” Cullen’s laugh echoes through the hall. “Is this some sort of trick? Are you distracting me so Sera can mess with my desk again? Maker’s breath, Dorian, if I return and something is awry with my office—”

“No. Not a trick.” Dorian’s quick to respond and this makes Cullen raise his eyebrows.

“Oh really now?” It’s Cullen’s turn to step closer to him, their chests almost touching. Dorian doesn’t dare to back down, but he feels his confidence wavering. He was so positive this is what he wanted but the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks about Coryphesus and the fact that no plan is for sure, he backs away.

“Dorian? What’s the matter. You look—”

Weak. A moment of weakness. Dorian can’t help it as he steps forward and closes the space between them, kissing Cullen’s lips hard. They’re off balance as Cullen jerks back and Dorian stumbles forward.

“What—”

“You wanted to know what was the matter,” Dorian’s voice chokes, and it’s the first time he’s ever seen Cullen look so concerned. “So I showed you. Don’t sit there all daft. Yell at me. Tell me what I did was wrong.” Cullen stares at him, cheeks matching the flush of red that runs up his neck. “Never mind, forget it. Just forget it.” 

And Dorian’s not a dumb man, he doesn’t stand and wait for Cullen to start blabbing on about how the feelings weren’t mutual. That he was disgusted. Or that Dorian had completely read him wrong.

A fool. He was a fool.

He thinks he’s getting away, that he’ll be able to climb the stairs and hide in the top of Blackwall’s barn, but he can hear Cullen calling after him. 

“Dorian, stop! Please, just- Dorian!” Once Dorian reaches the stairs, he stops. Holds his breath for a second before Cullen’s steps get closer to him. There’s not a chance that he’s turning around, to see the disappointment in the commander’s face. “Don’t-… Is that a Tevinter thing? Kissing people and running off?”

He’s not angry. Or disappointed. Dorian would have heard it in his voice. He allows himself to turn around, just to see Cullen’s expression.

There’s fear. A longing. Dorian’s seen that look too many times in the mirror lately.

“Don’t go.”

Dorian takes a step up the stair and Cullen moves one step closer. It earns a small smile from Dorian and in response, Cullen offers his hand. “Are you expecting me to dance?” Dorian’s voice is slightly bitter, as he can’t remember the last time someone had offered him a dance.

“No. I’m showing you that I trust you.”

“I’m not sure that I trust you, though. Templar, and all. Me being a mage. Oil and water. ”

Cullen shakes his head, keeping his hand out. Dorian can see his patience wavering. It amuses him. Dorian finally reaches out and takes Cullen’s hand pulls him into a kiss, his other hand grabbing the back of the man’s head. It’s ahead kiss,and Cullen expects something fiery and magical, maybe even a taste of ice, but nothing happens. It’s simply Dorian kissing him, no magic involved. No tricks. Not this time, anyways. Cullen hesitates when Dorian pulls away, a smirk on his face. 

“I suppose that wasn’t bad.” Dorian still hangs onto Cullen’s hand. They both look around for a moment before Dorian pecks him on the cheek and continues to descend down the stairs, finally letting go of Cullen’s hand. 

“Meet me in the library tonight.” Dorian throws over his shoulder and Cullen raises an eyebrow, feels a blush in his cheeks. More late night training.


End file.
